


And I Thought of the Albatross

by MJ (mjr91)



Category: The X-Files
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1999-09-30
Updated: 1999-09-30
Packaged: 2018-11-20 13:50:25
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,414
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11336802
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mjr91/pseuds/MJ
Summary: Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived atThe Basement, which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onThe Basement's collection profile.





	And I Thought of the Albatross

**Author's Note:**

> Note from alice ttlg, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [The Basement](http://fanlore.org/wiki/The_Basement), which moved to the AO3 to ensure the stories are always available and so that authors may have complete control of their own works. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in June 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [The Basement's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/thebasement/profile).

 

And I Thought of the Albatross by MJ

Slashx: 16 July 1998  
ArchiveX: 17 July 1998

And I Thought of the Albatross  
MJ <>  
Thanks to Te for beta reading and editing. Couldn't have done it without you. Disclaimers: Don't own 'em, don't have money, don't bother to sue.

* * *

And I Thought of the Albatross  
\-- MJ

The voice of my education said to me  
He must be killed,  
For in Sicily the black, black snakes are innocent, the gold are venomous.

And voices in me said, If you were a man  
You would take a stick and break him now, and finish him off.

But must I confess how I liked him,  
How glad I was he had come like a guest in quiet, to drink at my water trough  
And depart peaceful, pacified, and thankless,  
Into the burning bowels of this earth?

Was it cowardice, that I dared not kill him?  
Was it perversity, that I longed to talk to him?  
Was it humility, to feel so honoured?  
I felt so honoured.

And yet these voices:  
If you were not afraid, you would kill him!

And truly I was afraid, I was most afraid,  
But even so, honoured still more  
That he should seek my hospitality  
From out the dark door of the secret earth.

* from "Snake" by DH Lawrence

"Things are looking up." The oldest trick in the book. I fell for it the same way every stupid clown in the movies does. What did it get me? Pistol-whipped. Bashed over the head by - to steal a line - the spy who loved me. I have got to quit watching James Bond flicks. James Bond I'm not. Bond never drops his gun, never gets pistol whipped by SMERSH - not often, anyway - and never ruins his suits. He doesn't drive a Taurus, and he doesn't get seasick. I am definitely on the wrong end of the law enforcement business. Should have gone CIA. Maybe I'd do better there. What do I get at the FBI? Health insurance which I keep using like it's going out of style, a basement office, and, instead of Bond girls, I get the Mulder boy, Alex-fucking-Krycek.

Why the fuck haven't I killed Alex? Hell, Bond's even offed a couple of the cutiepies who turned out to be on the wrong side. Me? Scully shoots me in the shoulder so I can't get Krycek. And she's my friend. Hell, what do your enemies do in this business? Sorry I asked - I know. Shouldn't try to joke about it; it's not funny. And yes... I am afraid of Alex. Very, very afraid.

Was it Milton who pointed out that Satan was the most beautiful of all the angels? He'd obviously met Alex. Satan has piercing green eyes, waving black hair, six feet of solid muscle, and is hung like a - well, let's not get carried away there. Alex is hung, but he's within the realm of reason. I ought to know; I've spent enough time with him in my bed. Alex is the serpent in my garden, and I can't find a reason to get rid of him. I keep finding reasons to try to get him to stay.

Scully was discussing food allergies once, and she mentioned that the foods which provoke allergies are often the ones that the sufferer most craves. The craving is a symptom of the allergy. If that's true, I'm allergic to Alex. Can't live with him, crave him when he's gone, and feel like I could die as soon as he's back. Please, Alex, come back and pistol whip me again, okay? Please, sir, may I have some more? 

Talk about dysfunctional relationships. This relationship has three gears -absent, fucking, or fighting. No in-betweens. No sitting around watching the tube and eating pizza. No planning where we're going for vacation. No domestic content whatsoever. Hell, it's only definable as a relationship in that it is an associating of two or more persons in close proximity. The only time Alex and I ever had deep, meaningful conversations about the meaning of life was back when we were partners. How long did that last? If Alex weren't a consortium goon, if he'd stayed on at the Bureau - if Alex weren't Alex - we might have been able to have something vaguely approximating a normal human relationship. That is, if Alex had been who I'd thought he was. Who he turned out to be is a professional killer, part-time spy, and occasional crook who has a jones for my ass. When he's not trying to kill me, or I'm not trying to kill him. I'm a trained psychologist - you think I don't know this is sick? Hell, I scare myself. I ought to kill him; instead, I get pleased and excited every time he breaks into my damn apartment. Instant erection. Alex, you broke into my place, we just tried to kill each other... please let me blow you now. 

And I thought of the albatross,  
And I wished he would come back, my snake.

For he seemed to me again like a king,  
Like a king in exile, uncrowned in the underworld,  
Now due to be crowned again.

I couldn't have killed Alex the time I tried to shoot him. Scully didn't understand that; but then, she doesn't know about us. If she does, she's never said anything about it. Of course, if she does, it probably shocks the hell out of her. Easy to be tolerant in general, but harder to be tolerant about people you know and live with... especially when they're not only doing the queer thing but doing it with someone that ought to be in prison, or maybe the mental ward, someone who needs to get their head beaten in with a stick. Give me a break, Doctor Scully - it's an allergy. I'd much rather be doing someone nice, respectable, and non-pathological, but I'm having allergic cravings again. Will the desire go away if you give me Benadryl? Maybe a course of allergy shots, like I had to do as a kid? Are there allergy shots for Alex Krycek?

Alex Krycek. Ratboy. The consortium mole in the FBI. Goddamn weasel. Snake in the grass. Hell, he's a fucking menagerie. So why do I put up with it? What am I getting out of this? I must be getting something out of it or I wouldn't come down with terminal lust every time he picks my lock, shoves a gun in my face, or tries to resist arrest. I had no idea that resisting arrest was an erotic activity. Damn the Hong Kong airport. I must have some kind of handcuff fetish; that's it. You've wrecked my cases, sold out Scully, beaten me up, probably killed my father - where do you want me to stop? By the way, shut up and kiss me. The sane reaction, the logical one, would be to grab the nearest weapon and smash your damned head in. Am I too afraid of you to kill you, or too attracted? And why is the obvious answer to that one "both"? 

Pistol whip me, point a gun at me, give me an entire pile of secret information that I actually needed, even though I didn't know I wanted it. Kiss me and leave. "Das vidanya, tovarisch." Yeah, right. People usually complain that they got fucked without getting kissed first. Bastard, you planted one on me and left without bothering to get down to business this time. I get a pile of useful information, a raging headache from the butt of my gun, and a hard on that wants me to do something about it, preferably with you and not the hand it gets stuck dating otherwise. So where the hell are you going this time? When the hell are you coming back, damn it? And why the fuck is Scully here *now*? Another half an hour to gripe about the snake I wish would come back, and maybe get this load out of my pants... 

This sort of thing never happens to James Bond. Those girls never give him the secret plans, kiss him, and split. They drop their dresses, rip off his clothes, and start begging for it. Nope, I get to rip off my shirt, chase after Alex, and beg for it. This is backwards. Hell, my father always said I kept doing things ass backwards... I've gotta agree with him on this one. Scully... have you got a Benadryl?


End file.
